PopSocket
by littlev123
Summary: "Blue eyes shine with building tears. This gift had gone through so much. Carole had gone through so much, for her, for their friendship." Carole/Tuesday, oneshot.


A/N: So at first I thought the present Carole gave Tuesday was a PopSocket, and I got a lot of cute ideas for that concept. Thus this fic was born.

* * *

"It's way past your birthday, and, well, you can see the state it's in, but…"

Despite the wrapping paper's scuffs and tears, Carole's fingers are gentle as she unwraps the little box. Tuesday's heart thuds faster, and it is somehow louder in her ears than when she'd been sprinting to the train minutes ago.

Carole opens the box flaps and pulls out a tiny replica of Tuesday's Gibson guitar. Its stunning details gleam in the light, and attached underneath is a circular piece of plastic.

Blue eyes shine with building tears. This gift had gone through so much. _Carole_ had gone through so much, for her, for their friendship.

At her mother's home, Tuesday had many pretty trinkets decorating the bedroom, but they were just that: decorations. Meant to fill the space, and devoid of meaning. The guitar PopSocket is the very opposite of that. Her guitar is an extension of herself, and music is how they met. Having a miniature version of it that the brunette had carried with her through thick and thin—it has infinitely more value than just its store price.

In the end, no water spills down her cheeks; instead, a smile blooms across her face. "Thank you."

As they discuss what to sing for the competition, the blonde carefully sticks the PopSocket to the back of her phone. When she looks up, she catches Carole watching her before the keyboardist quickly glances out the window.

* * *

"Ugh, I could sleep _forever_," Carole groans and plops onto the nearest bench. Legs weary, Tuesday sits down beside her and releases a long breath. Today was a busy day. Last-minute shopping, apartment chores (that they'd been neglecting for a tad too long), rehearsals.

They should head home soon, but having a breather is too tempting right now.

While the taller girl rests her head against the bench back, Tuesday pulls the tie out of her hair and shakes out the wavy tresses. Then she sits back too. Her body aches with exhaustion, but her mind remains active as she glances around.

The river slides quietly by in the distance. Among the bustle of city life, she hears snippets of conversations between people and obedient noises from AI. She tunes into the familiar background noise for a while. Eventually she looks at Carole again.

The other had fallen asleep. Eyes closed, she breathes deeply through her slightly parted mouth.

Considering Carole had to clean up half of Tuesday's attempts to clean the apartment, it is no wonder she's more tired. She deserves a few minutes of rest.

The blonde reaches into her purse and retrieves her phone. Ignoring the screen, she turns the device around and traces the mini Gibson's edges with a calloused finger.

She starts opening and folding the accordion part of the PopSocket. Its mindless amusement entertains her until Carole shifts, and suddenly there is a hand lying on Tuesday's thigh.

Emitting a soft squeak, Tuesday tenses. Her eyes shoot up to her friend's face. The other is clearly still asleep, if the snoring is any indication. Thankfully, Carole moves again, and her hand ends up on the bench between them.

She waits until her warm face has cooled down to wake her companion.

* * *

Chest-rattling coughs wake Tuesday from her nap. Bundled under two blankets, she huddles further into her cocoon and grimaces at the drying sweat stuck to her skin. A wet rag slides off her forehead. She has to breath in through her mouth; God, the things she would do for a clear nose.

She strains her ears for signs of Carole. Finding none, she searches for her phone and finds it tangled between the sheets. She checks the time.

It's mid-afternoon. Where is Carole? Her foggy brain takes a moment to remember the answer. Right, she said something about going to the laundromat.

It's silly, and maybe childish, but she suddenly wishes her friend (crush?) would show up through the door right now. Her mother did always say she became clingy when sick. ("Just rest, Tuesday, and you'll be fine by yourself. You're not going to have someone to take care of you forever, so it's best to get over it now. I won't coddle you.")

She could call for Ziggy, but the owl clock just doesn't feel like enough.

Shame curls in her empty stomach. Her gaze strays to the PopSocket. She runs her thumb over and over the high-quality plastic, and she finds an odd comfort in its smooth texture.

_Carole will be back soon,_ Tuesday reminds herself. She holds her phone against her chest and lets sleep overtake her once more.

* * *

Tuesday opens the PopSocket so she can lay the phone on its side. After going to the camera app and putting it in selfie mode, she scrutinizes her appearance. Is she wearing too much lip gloss? Is her blouse too fancy for this restaurant? Oh, there are some hairs out of place!

She hurriedly runs her fingers through golden locks. Despite her nervousness, she wears an excited smile that won't leave. Any minute now Carole will walk through the doors, and their first official date could begin.

As she smooths down her bangs, her mind runs through various scenarios. Pulling out the chair for Carole, holding hands under the table, giggling over gossip, recalling fond memories, sharing a milkshake—

"Tuesday!"

The blonde startles out of her imagination and spots Carole approaching. Her mouth turns dry.

Carole is _beautiful_. Always is, but now Tuesday can finally say it without holding anything back.

* * *

The house feels bigger than she remembers. At first she stands by the doorway, as if she is merely a guest, and then she migrates to the dining room table. The security AI greet her; their metallic voices seem to echo in the quiet.

She hasn't been back here in two years. After the elections, her mother hardly spoke to her. When they did speak, it was cordial, if strained. Valerie had at least acknowledged her independence and genuine drive for music.

However, there are still things unsaid, things Tuesday needs her mother to know. So she pushed herself into returning here. According to the AI, a meeting Valerie is in is going overtime, which means it will be a while before she arrives.

Antsy, she can handle sitting only for a few minutes before standing. She wanders through the first floor briefly and then heads to the second.

The door to her old bedroom opens without a sound. Everything looks just as she left it; someone had even been regularly dusting. The bed shows not a crease, and no smudges blur the dresser mirror's surface. Stuffed toys rest on the bed. Her gaze lingers longest on her old, filled notebooks stuffed at the end of her bookshelf.

…she wants to look at what's written inside them, but not today.

Sitting on the bed, she focuses on keeping her breaths even. She reaches into her purse and presses her fingers against the little guitar on her phone. Whatever happens today, she has a home to go back to.

Footsteps approach. Not clicking heels or sturdy flats, but the soft press of loafers.

"Spencer!" she greets as her brother enters the room.

"I have some things to talk to her about too, so I hope you don't mind me waiting with you." He crosses the room to sit in her desk chair, and they chat the minutes away. She reminds herself to invite Spencer over to her and Carole's apartment sometime.

* * *

Roddy leans over the table to hand Tuesday's phone back. "There you go. Some of your apps kept running even when they were closed, so I fixed some settings. Your phone's battery should last longer now."

"Thanks." She makes sure to accept it with her right hand; her other fingers are still wet with pizza grease. Carole hands her a napkin, which she gratefully accepts. Meanwhile, Gus slouches further in his chair and rubs his full stomach.

"You've had that PopSocket for a while, haven't you?" Roddy casually notes.

Tuesday nods. Regardless of how well she took care of it, it was inevitable that it would be nicked and lose its luster. "Carole gave it to me right before the Mars Brightest finale."

Carole leans against her girlfriend's shoulder to examine the little guitar. "I should get you a new one. It's looking pretty beat up."

The blond hums, neither agreeing or disagreeing. Logically she should get another one, and she doesn't need it to feel connected to Carole anymore. But the sentiment behind it makes it hard to let go of.

Gus sighs with a nostalgic smile on his face. "To think, only a few years ago you two were nobodies. I did a pretty great job, if I do say so myself."

"I helped. A lot, actually, considering I work for Ertegun too," Roddy mutters.

"Girls, look behind you. That's a nice sunset," Gus abruptly remarks.

The young adults turn to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Between buildings, bold oranges and soft pinks saturate the sky.

"It's pretty," Tuesday comments.

"Yeah…it is a pretty sight," Carole agrees.

When the guitarist turns, she notices the brunette is watching her instead of the sky. Warmth spreads through Tuesday's chest.

Carole takes her phone and opens the PopSocket. "Let's take a selfie, Tues."

Thanks to the guitar attachment, it's easier to hold the phone up without it slipping. The sunset beyond the restaurant's windows makes a lovely backdrop to their smiling profiles.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

Instead of taking the photo immediately, Carole turns her head and kisses her on the cheek. Tuesday's mouth opens in surprise. _Click._

"Carole!"

Her girlfriend wears a toothy grin as she shows the selfie to her. "It's cute! You're so adorable when you're surprised." She stands and heads over to the other side of the table, where Gus and Roddy had watched the proceedings with fond looks. "Don't worry, we're not leaving you guys out. Let's all take a selfie together."

"That's all right, I'm terrible in pictures…" Roddy attempts to dismiss, but the phone is thrust in front of him anyway.

"I'm tallest, so I'll take the picture," Gus offers, and she hands it to him.

Tuesday glances at the PopSocket between his fingers. It has served her well throughout her journey, and even if she doesn't have it for much longer, she will never forget that day on the train. She walks over to the others, squeezes herself between Roddy and Carole, and tries to stifle a laugh as Gus struggles to take a non-blurry selfie.


End file.
